


Classified

by Agent777



Category: Original Work
Genre: Agents, Gen, Secret lives, Spies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent777/pseuds/Agent777
Summary: Everyone born as part of a set of twins has a mark that matches their twin universe.One lost twin is a spy and everything they do is classified. All they want is to find their other half, but how can they themselves be found if they're a ghost to the world and everything about them is classified?





	Classified

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VDlovesbooks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VDlovesbooks/gifts).



> Hola, Van! I'm back again with another piece of writing for you. Happy birthday! I hope you have an awesome day and know that I love you! Happy reading!
> 
> P.S. I'm a terrible person and didn't get it done on time so this is just chapter one. Chapter two to follow!

As a kid, I never questioned my mom about anything. I was a foster child moving from family to family until she took me in and decided she would be the mother figure so many other kids like me never had the opportunity to know, and that wasn’t until I was eight years old. I was a sneaky and quiet kid, and definitely a fair bit troublesome, and most people didn’t want a foster kid like me. I had felt the pain and resented the neglect from other foster parents.

Understandably when my mom offered a home instead of a house, I appreciated it for all it was worth. But there was one thing that I was always curious about, and no one, not even my mom could provide me with answers - the tiny compass rose mark on my elbow.

There I stood, leaning heavily into my computer at the Intelligence Office. A glance at the clock in the corner of the screen told me it was nearing o-four hundred hours. Long past the end of my shift, my only reason for being there is the tattoo. I stared at the monitor for hours as it completed long personnel searches for me.

**_NO RESULTS_ **

The all too familiar words flashed in red on the screen. I dropped my head down to the desk, defeated from all the futile efforts I’ve taken to locate my twin.

My mom’s words from a few weeks ago rang in my head.

_“Honey, maybe they just don’t want to be found.”_

Maybe it was time for me to stop looking.

  


_One year later_

 

 

“You seven are the best of the best. After long trials and difficult tests, you are the individuals who have succeeded in becoming our newest covert intelligence and enforcement personnel. That being said, the most difficult missions lie in your futures. This is not a low risk profession. While your close families may understand what you do, they may not be allowed to know any details of any of your missions.

“Some of you will die on missions, some of you will be hurt. No one will come out unscathed, but it is part of your job to put the safety of this country above your own. Welcome to the field work of covert intelligence. Please read through the file with your assigned number on it. This is your first mission,” the woman’s voice that echoed throughout the room cut off, leaving behind silence.

Six other recruits and I had just finished the initiation to become field agents. No one else looked to be in the mood for moving, so I got up first and walked towards the desk, picked up the folder with a large number two on it and left for my quarters.

I took a deep breath and sat down on the bare bed opposite an already packed bag. I would have been leaving whether I’d gotten a position or not, so I had been packed and ready for days.

I opened the folder carefully. Inside was the assignment that would change my life. It was at least thirty pages long.

**_ORDERS: CAPTURE & INTERROGATE._ **

The first page contained a brief summary of her target, a man whose photograph was pinned to the side of the file, an outline of her instructions and post-interrogation protocol.

The bottom of the page read in bold red letters:

**_TERMINATE IF NECESSARY._ **

Also in the file was an envelope containing a plane ticket to Madrid.

Sighing, I glanced over to the bag sitting by the door, and then to the tattoo on the inside of my elbow. Maybe all these international missions would give me more exposure, a better chance of finding my sibling. I shrugged off the thought; if I haven’t found them already, chances are I never will.

Knife stored safely in its sheath, gun loaded, safety on, in its holster with an extra clip; I put the folder in my bag and left the empty room.

  


_Three years later_

 

 

I tipped the chair a little further over the side of the building before setting all four legs back onto the ground.

“Thank you,” I said smugly, “that’s all I needed to hear.”

“Wait!” the man called after me, struggling in his bindings on the chair. “Aren’t you going to untie me?”

“Now, why would I do that?” I walked out of the (mostly) abandoned warehouse, petting a passing stray dog on the way.

“Have a good night!” I said, shutting the warehouse doors and leaving my latest investigation in complete darkness.

As a seasoned agent and (sometimes) assassin, I was climbing the ranks of covert intelligence, and fast.

I quickly left my distractions behind and became a more efficient and resourceful agent, completing missions in a fraction of the time it took other agents who started with me. No one was a better field agent.

I paged into headquarters and confirmed that I’d completed the mission, and would deliver the data recorder at the safe house where I would receive my next assignment.

I stopped by at my favourite cupcake shop on my way to the safe house.  “Hey, Alice,” Marie, the owner, said. “How many?”

“Six, please, all blackout,” I said, leaning on the counter. Thank goodness this place was open late, I visited pretty much every time I was in New York.

“Busy day at work?”

I scanned the display, looking at all the different flavours. “You have no idea. I just want a quick death by chocolate.”

Marie whipped around and pointed a chocolate blackout cupcake in her direction. “Thank you! That’s a great name for these.” She handed me the box of cupcakes. “Enjoy!”

“Cheers,” I said and gave her the money. “I’ll see you around.”

The safe house was a small Harlem apartment. I found the key and put a few of the cupcakes in the fridge and then sat down on the pull out couch. I picked up the folder and kicked up my feet, stuffing a whole cupcake into my mouth.

I would probably kill for a lifetime supply of these cupcakes.

Strangely, the file was thin; there was only an envelope with a blue seal inside it.

In it was a letter that read, “Agent Stonewalk, We are pleased with your performance over these recent years. You are to meet with the director shortly about your future with us. Additional instructions will follow. In the time being, you may stay in the safe house. Thank you.”

I flipped it over. There was nothing on the back and no sender name.

Whatever, if I have to wait, I’ll wait.

But for now, I’ve got cupcakes to eat.

The next eight days passed by uneventfully. I watched a record number of movies, read a few books, and ate way too many cupcakes. All that on top of having to stay in superspy form, I kept myself busy. On the ninth day, I came home from the grocery store to an envelope slid underneath the door. It was sealed with the same blue wax, and the contents gave me a location and time.

The last time I had been in the main wing of the intelligence building was when I was appointed a level four field agent.

Another desk agent directed me to an office where I now waited. It was unadorned with personal effects, or any effects, really, besides a large map of the world that covered one wall.

The compass rose was complex, but had a familiar look to it. Then again, all compass roses looked pretty similar.

Footsteps echoed down the hall and I sat down at a chair in front of the desk. The door opened and a very breathless man opened the door, exhaling loudly.

“Well,” he started, “field agents just don’t age as well as they used to.” He sat down at the desk, smoothing out his suit and settling into his chair.

“I hope you’ll excuse my tardiness. Let’s get right down to business. You, Agent Stonewalk, are an inexhaustible asset to our organization. How difficult would you consider your recent assignments to have been?”

“They were fine. I’d have considered the last two to be easy. I had no problem extracting the information required.”

“Good, good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” The director clasped his hands on the desk in front of him and leaned forward. “The organization and I feel that your talents are being wasted on small, relatively unchallenging missions, Larger operations usually require more than one agent, and we as an agency generally avoid them. However, in light of several recent political changes, we are in need of information that can only be acquired through large-scale operations.

“To start, we will conduct a routine mission but with two agents rather than one, to give our agents an opportunity to settle into collaboration. You are one of these two agents. Today you will meet your new partner.”


End file.
